Bringing Delaney Home (Cates Brothers #1) (2 page)

She looked back down at the floor with a sigh. “Oh my, look at all the coffee cups. I remember. I drank the coffee to stop the spinning.”

“The spinning?”

“Yeah. Side effect of my no-pain method.”

“Gotcha. How are the spinning and the pain right now?”

“Oh, well, not bad ’cause I stopped the spinning with doughnuts.” She grabbed a doughnut out of the box on the floor. Breaking it in half, she reached up and pulled the spoon out of her bun and started eating the jelly from the center of the doughnut.

“And the pain?”

Delaney looked back up. “No. No matter what I do—I can’t stop the pain,” she whispered. Hiccup.

“What about the vitamins?”

“That’s for the osteoporosis and scurvy.” Delaney’s eyes teared up quickly as a sob rolled up from her chest. “Only now I don’t need as much anymore.”

With tears running down her cheeks, Delaney dropped her doughnut and spoon into the box, reached out, and grabbed Quinn by the sleeve. She pulled him forward enough to rub her tears and runny nose on his sleeve. “When I was little, when Greer was born, I knew exactly what to do. Take care of Greer. Protect her.”

“You did a good job.”

“I had to. Then she grew up and didn’t need me, so I left and made a new life. I had a plan, but—” Delaney scrubbed her hands over her face and shook her head. “Funny how one second can change your life, you know? Boom. So now I want to be left alone. Why won’t Greer understand that?”

“She’s worried about you.”

“I told her I was fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” Quinn watched the tears run silently down her face, realizing in all the years he’d known Delaney he’d never seen her cry before.

“Of course I’m not fine. My life makes no sense anymore. And I’m tired of trying to make it make sense, you know? I just want to be left alone. That’s all.”

“Delaney?”

“Yes?” She sniffed and blinked tear-filled eyes up to his face.

“It’s time to come home. Greer sent me to get you.” He used the bottom of his shirt to finish wiping her tears away.

She looked up at him in confusion. “One of the many Cates brothers. In high school, you couldn’t sneeze without spraying a Cates brother. One of you was always at the principal’s office. Was that you? You look like the bad boy of the bunch.”

Quinn quirked an eyebrow at her, wondering what game she was playing. She damn well knew who he was. “No, that was Tynan.”

“The one who cheated off my chemistry tests?”

“Tynan.”

“The one who dated the student teacher?”

“What?
Seriously
? Had to be Tynan.”

She studied him, tilting her head different angles. “Hmmm, not Tynan, and not the super hot one, or that other one the girls nicknamed Mr. Darcy, and definitely not old what’s-his-name. That makes you the one who dated all those perky cheerleaders. Quinlan.” She poked him in the chest with her finger.

“Guilty.” He stood up and took a step back, rubbing his chest where she’d poked him.

“You don’t say. Of what?”

“Nothing.” Guilty of being stupid if he let her touch get to him again. He’d gotten over her five years ago. He was not taking that road again.

“Don’t poker up on me now. Go ahead and confess. It’s a few years too late, but . . . No? Fine. I’ll go first. I confess I’m pretty sure I made out with one of you Cates boys, but I’m not sure which one.”

Quinn crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “How could you not be sure which one of us you made out with?”

“Well, you all looked a lot alike. You know, tall, square jaw, and dark hair. You know what you needed? Name tags. If you Cates brothers had worn name tags, then I’d remember which one.”

Quinn grunted. “I think I might be insulted.”

“Why? Was it you?” She stared at his lips as if this would reveal the truth.

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

“See, you don’t even know. I told you y’all needed name tags.”

“I’d say you need some more coffee.”

Delaney looked around the floor at all the wineglasses and coffee cups lined up. “Oh, good gravy, I know what I need more than coffee.”

“What’s that?”

“The bathroom. Help me up,” Delaney said. “No! Do. Not. Touch. The. Legs. Just grab my hands and pull.”

Quinn gently pulled her up by her hands. He kept holding on to her while she swayed precariously.

“Okey dokey. Step out of the way, Great Wall of China.” She looked up at him as she pushed against his chest. “Someone’s been working out.”

He watched her limp and sway down the hallway, then followed after her looking for the bedroom. The faster he could pack some clothes for her, the easier this might be. Her bedroom was practically bare. The dresser had clothes in only two of its six drawers. One drawer held bras, underwear, and socks. The other drawer held sweats. Four pair of dark grey sweatpants, six grey sweatshirts, and a stack of T-shirts. Huh.

Opening the closet he found two suitcases on the floor and one pair of gym shoes. He grabbed the suitcases and laid them on the bed. He pulled the newer blue one forward, figuring if everything fit in it, he wouldn’t need to take the banged-up suitcase.

“Don’t open that!” Delaney yelled from the doorway. She moved into the room to open the battered yellow suitcase but turned to squint at him suspiciously. “Wait. What are you doing?”

“I’m helping you pack so I can take you home. Remember, Greer sent me to get you? She really needs you at home.”

“She does?” Delaney looked up into Quinn’s face. “Why?”

“Because,” he said, quickly reaching for the yellow suitcase to start packing while she was distracted.

“
Because
? Clearly you weren’t the brother on the debate team.” She stood and hummed a few notes from the
Sesame Street
theme song, then stopped. “Why didn’t she mention it on the phone?”

“You know Greer—she’s bad at asking for help.” Had he just said that? Hell, Greer had no problem asking for help. Help paint her kitchen, help fix her speeding ticket . . . help Delaney.

“Okay. I can come down for a day or two to help Greer.”

Quinn scooped up her sweats from the drawer and threw them into the case. He figured he’d hurry while Delaney was being cooperative. He reached in to grab her underthings out of the last drawer.

“Gah! Take your hands off my panties,” she squeaked.

“If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that,” Quinn said.

“Get your hands out of my drawers.”

“Yeah, that too.” He backed away to make room for her.

Delaney scowled at him as she finished packing her drawer of underwear, trying to hold it close to her chest so he wouldn’t see it.

“That it?”

She pointed to the framed photograph next to her bed and snapped her fingers, pointing at it again. She was either too mad to talk to him or too tipsy to remember her nouns. Both were a possibility. He went over and snagged the frame. Giving it a quick glance, he saw it was a recent photograph of Greer. He tossed it in the suitcase on top of the unmentionables. “Bathroom?”

“No, I already went, thank you.”

“Do you have anything to pack in the bathroom?”

“Oh, a couple things. You know”—Delaney lowered her voice—“some personal items.”

“I’ll keep my eyes closed,” Quinn said, then left the room to pack up the bathroom. He made a detour to the kitchen to grab a plastic bag, and then dumped everything he saw in the bathroom into the bag. It wasn’t much. Some shower items, feminine supplies, lip balm, and lots and lots of prescription bottles. Holy hell, Greer had made a good call. He quickly headed back to Delaney’s bedroom, where it was very quiet. He found her lying sideways on the bed as if she had just fallen backwards after sitting down. She was snoring. Quinn crammed the plastic bag of toiletries into the suitcase and closed it up. He leaned over her, nudging her shoulder. “Delaney, wake up. Let’s get going.”

“Quinn, I haven’t slept in months.” She sat up. “If you could just stay quiet, I think I can finally sleep.”

“Now that I know there’s no emergency . . .” Except Quinn was pretty sure that once the alcohol wore off, she’d still be a hot mess. From what he had seen tonight, Greer was right about Delaney needing help. “. . . and I know you’re just drunk—”

“Drunk? I wish. No, that was hours ago. Pretty sure I’ve moved into the hangover stage if this honking headache is anything to go by.” She massaged her forehead and then lay back on the bed again. “Ssssh. I just need to sleep for a week. Or two.”

“Greer, remember?” He grabbed her hands so he could help her stand.

“I remember. There’s only one thing though,” she said, not quite steady on her feet.

“What’s that?” Quinn turned around from picking up the old battered suitcase just as Delaney said, “I think you’ll have to carry me.”

And then she fell against him, throwing her arms around his neck for support.

In that moment, holding Delaney in his arms, two things became clear. First, Greer was going to owe him something real big. And second, he was in trouble. Seeing Delaney again, being near her—holy hell, the woman was dangerous. But she needed help. Greer was right about that. So, he’d take her back to Climax and make sure he was never, ever alone with her.

Chapter Two

D
elaney sat in the dark kitchen of her childhood home nursing a killer headache. The headache was a small parting gift from being a contestant in the “Delaney Lyons, How Low Can You Go?” game. Turns out . . . pretty low. And considering she was a little sketchy on some of the details, maybe even lower than that.

She did remember that less than twenty-four hours ago she’d been carried out of her apartment, driven five hours south to her hometown of Climax, North Carolina, force-fed water and aspirin, and shoved into a bed to sleep it off. A few hours after she’d fallen into a restless sleep in Quinn Cates’s guest bedroom, the nightmares had her wide awake and out of the house, driving to the only place open in Climax: a twenty-four hour gym.

That’s where a fight had broken out. Well, a verbal scuffle, so she’d left at the strong recommendation of the muscle-bound desk attendant. In trying to avoid going to her childhood home, she’d stopped at the library as it opened for the day. Turned out she wasn’t very popular at the library either. It seemed she’d lost her civilized polish along with her left foot.

“Tell me you didn’t!” Greer yelled before Delaney even heard the front door slam shut behind her.

Delaney covered her ears, trying to stop Greer’s voice from performing the rest of the lobotomy she herself had started yesterday. She’d known the story would get back to her sister; she just hadn’t thought it would travel so fast. She at least thought she’d get to say hello before the reckoning. What a lousy bunch of tattletales those muscle-bound gym rats were.

Oh, hell. She knew she couldn’t blame anyone but herself. Ever since the explosion, she was unable to filter her thoughts and impulses. That was the main reason she had stayed put in Washington, D.C.—until Greer had Quinn kidnap her last night. She would totally pin the blame on him, except she, of all people, knew Greer could have sweet-talked Elvis out of his fried peanut butter and banana sandwich.

So, she would own it. But, dammit, she had spent her whole life protecting Greer and she refused to let the last eight months change that. For Greer, she would paste on a smile and find a leftover crumb of the positive attitude she’d had in the beginning. Back when she’d attacked her rehabilitation each day. Before the anxiety had started. Before the nightmares had arrived and sleep had disappeared. Before all the emotions she’d been ignoring had hit like a tsunami, pulling her under.

She felt like a ticking time bomb. If she couldn’t figure out how to defuse, she sure as hell wanted to be alone when it went off. She sucked in a sharp breath as she realized that if she stayed in Climax she was sure to become a mini-explosion in her sister’s life.
No.
No way was she going to let that happen.

“Tell me you didn’t,” Greer said again, only now she was walking toward her through the dim kitchen.

“I might have.” Delaney squinted when Greer pulled the kitchen blinds up, flooding the table in bright, cleansing light. It probably wasn’t good that Delaney’s first instinct was to scurry into the dark like a roach.

“Congratulations. You’ve already been kicked out of the gym and the library, upset the sweet little old Simon sisters, gotten a parking ticket, and reignited the old rivalry with your arch nemesis.” Greer stood across the scarred oak table from Delaney with her hands on her hips. “You’ve been in Climax less than twenty-four hours!”

“Was it good for you too?” She raised her eyebrows. “Or too soon? Premature?”

“Do not stoop to Climax jokes at a time like this,” Greer said, doing a perfect imitation of a—well, a pissed-off sister. “And tell me you did not drive tipsy.”

“No. I drove hungover with a bitch of a headache. Did the town pass a law against that in the last eight years?”

“Why did you get Barbie’s BFF all spooled up at the gym and then leave?”

“Stacie? I did not get her ‘spooled up.’ ” Delaney reached out for the mug of coffee in front of her. “I’m pretty sure she was born that way.”

Greer leaned against the Formica counter next to the sink. “You should have stayed.”

“That good, huh? Did she blow?” Delaney blew on her coffee and took a sip, hoping the caffeine would have time to beat back her headache before Greer got to the serious stuff. She must have been drunk to have fallen for Quinn’s “Greer needs your help” line. No, she knew why she was here.

“Oh boy, did she. Like Mount St. Helens.”

“Did her face turn all red and did she get those frown lines all around her nose so she looked like a raccoon?”

“She sure did. How did you know?”

Delaney shrugged. “She used to do that in high school. You know you probably can get the videotape out of the security camera and replay it all in slow motion.”

“How do you think I know about it?” Greer laughed, but then sobered quickly. “Delaney, you should seriously be ashamed of yourself.”

“Hey, I went to the gym, didn’t I? How was I supposed to know Stacie works out before eight a.m. and she still hates me like I broke up the Backstreet Boys? So I left.”